Reflecting on my approach to therapy

Lately I have been thinking a lot about how my approach to therapy has changed over the years. In the beginning I was in awe of expressive arts therapy and clay therapy. They felt magical and different and full of possibility. Then, for a while, I swung the other way and focused almost entirely on traditional counselling tools. I wanted to know the “serious” techniques, the ones I was taught in school: CBT, DBT, ACT, attachment work, all the frameworks that sit firmly in the counselling world.

I think I went through a phase of almost despising the creative modalities that originally drew me in. I treated them as “not enough,” or not practical, and I threw myself fully into studying the more classical approaches.

But now something in me has settled. I can see the bigger picture. I can feel the wisdom of integration in my body. The truth is that expressive arts therapy and clay work are not separate from the rest. They weave beautifully with parts work, with IFS, with acceptance and commitment tools, with CBT and DBT, with every relational skill I use in the room.

I am realizing that none of these approaches stand alone. What happens in therapy is a living synthesis. It is shaped by who I am, who my clients are, and what wants to unfold between us. It is like a warm, imperfect soup made of experience, intuition, creativity, knowledge, training, culture, play, and human connection.

One of the biggest lessons for me has been this:

deep transformation does not always require pain.

Sometimes healing comes from joy, from ease, from creativity, from play. Touching clay, touching paint, moving the body, laughing a little, letting ourselves experience something simple and pleasant — these moments can shift us just as powerfully as exploring sorrow or anger.

We are often more comfortable working inside the “negative” emotional range. We know how to feel sadness, fear, disappointment, shame. But it can be much harder to access the other side: happiness, joy, curiosity, playfulness, lightness. Even a few easy moments in the day can feel almost risky, almost too good.

But these moments are healing. They soften us. They show us what else is possible. They help the nervous system remember that life contains more than suffering.

Therapy does not always mean going into darkness. Therapy can be supportive. Therapy can be grounding. Therapy can be creative and playful. Therapy can help us understand who we are in a way that expands us, rather than tightens us.

I don’t have a final insight here. I’m still exploring this, still allowing it to shape me. I’m simply putting it out into the world, hoping it raises a few good questions in you too.

Till next time.